


The Key To Our Hearts

by Randomwordsonpaper



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Awesome Sally Donovan, Boys In Love, Challenge Response, Declarations Of Love, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Engagement, Falling In Love, February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee, First Date, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Greg Lestrade is a Good Friend, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Insecure Sherlock Holmes, John is Perfect, M/M, Making Love, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Overprotective Mycroft Holmes, POV Greg Lestrade, POV John Watson, POV Mycroft Holmes, POV Sherlock Holmes, Prompt Fic, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomwordsonpaper/pseuds/Randomwordsonpaper
Summary: A 28-day journey with our two favourite idiots who are on a quest to find love between the walls of 221B. They just don't know that the other is searching, as well...Now complete!
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 164
Kudos: 102
Collections: February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee





	1. Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta love a challenge, and since my december challenge didn't go too well, I decided to give it another shot! 
> 
> On the very last day of January, I decided to join ohlooktheresabee's february prompt challenge with something I always wanted to do: a series of 221b's! And as if that wasn't enough, I also decided to do something different than my normal writing style: writing in first-person AND writing in present time! So wish me luck! 
> 
> Rating might change during this challenge, and tags will be added along the way!

The first time it happens, it’s a Monday afternoon. It’s a typical Monday; it has been pouring all day, the clinic was swamped with crying toddlers, and when I leave work and get on the tube, I am stuck between a woman who smells like an ashtray and a man who clearly has undiagnosed Hyperhidrosis. 

When I manage to get home, I’m in an awful mood. I slam the door shut, throw my jacket over my chair and walk directly to the fridge to grab a beer. He doesn’t greet me when I walk past him, and I’m about to give a snarky comment. But when I turn around, he simply looks up at me from his microscope and smiles. Not a smug smile or a pitiful smile, but a genuine, warm, welcoming smile that makes my knees go weak and my heart flutter in my chest. And just like that, my foul mood evaporates, and I can't suppress the urge to smile back at him. 

With a jolt, I realize what’s happening. This is me, falling. For him. Hard.

I feel the heat rising to my face and turn around before he’s able to deduce anything. He doesn’t need to know, not yet. Besides, some things are meant to stay secret.

Which in this case, is probably for the best.

  
  



	2. Allergies

“Sherlock, third time: stop scratching.” 

I don’t. I already had decided to ignore John the second time he asked; an extra time won’t convince me. Besides, it’s not that I don’t want to stop; I can’t. Not when it feels like there’s a colony of ants living under my skin.

In answer, I roll onto my other side, facing away from John. I clutch my arms between my knees and try to ignore the impulse to scratch, hoping that the pressure will give me some relief. 

But it’s no use; the urge to scrap my nails against my irritated skin is too big, and within two minutes, I give up. Maybe John won’t notice now I’m turned— 

“Oh for the love of God; stop it!” 

“I can’t!” I yell, frustrated and push myself up to face the doctor. “My skin is on fire, John!” 

His expression changes from annoyed to concerned in a flash. “Let me see.” 

“No. It’s nothing.” 

“I think that’s for a doctor to decide, hmm?” He walks over and settles himself next to me on the couch. I try to ignore the warmth from his hip against mine. “Come on, roll up your sleeve.” 

Reluctantly, I stretch out my arm. The touch of his warm, soothing fingers is so soft, that suddenly I forget how to breathe. 


	3. Storm

When the weather forecast told bad weather was coming, I knew I wouldn’t allow myself to catch any sleep. Now, I’m sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of the night, watching the lightning illuminate the otherwise pitch-black kitchen. Thunder rolls above London and the sound of rain clattering against the window is soothing.

I love this weather; it clears my mind in a way nothing else can and allows my thoughts to wander. It lingers on you, upstairs, still vast asleep. I admire your ability to sleep trough this all. But I guess you are accustomed to this kind of weather. Because unfortunately, you’ve been in a much bigger storm.

My mind does that more often lately, linger at the thought of you. Your room in my Mind Palace is extending; soon it won’t be just a room anymore. It's not entirely my fault; you’re getting more fascinating every day. I was already intrigued when I first met you, but now you’re becoming the perfect contradiction. My perfect contradiction. You are the doctor who can kill, the soldier who wants to heal… The ordinary guy who can make everyone’s head spin. Or maybe that’s just me.

You are both the calm before, and the storm itself. You are a perfect balance.

And I?

I’m starting to crave that balance.


	4. Dance

I throw my phone on the table and let out a frustrated sigh. “I give up. I’m not going,” I state, running my hands across my face. I don’t expect Sherlock to respond; he has been reading all day. But after a second, he puts his book aside and gives me a questioning look. 

“The stupid Valentine’s fundraiser at the Met,” I clarify. “Sarah cancelled, and going alone is just pathetic.” I regret my phrasing immediately, knowing Sherlock doesn’t have a date. At least, I suspect he doesn’t. “Sorry.” 

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. “What for?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that… It’s perfectly okay to go by yourself.” 

“I’m not; I have a date.” 

I blink once, twice. “Oh,” is all I manage to say, my throat suddenly dry. 

After a few seconds, Sherlock speaks again. “Unless you want to go together.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me.” 

“You want to go to the fundraiser? With me?” 

“Yes, John, do keep up.” 

“Why?” 

Sherlock doesn’t answer, at least, not with words. He shrugs nonchalantly, but the faint blush on his cheeks tells me he’s just trying to act cool.

“Sure. Why not,” I answer equally casual. I get up and walk to the kitchen before he can see the smile on my face. 

All of a sudden, the dance doesn’t seem that bad. 

  
  



	5. Choose

“That sounds delicious,” the young woman opposite me – Joyce, as I recall, says sweetly and gives me a charming smile. We met between the shelves of pasta minutes ago where she searched for ready-made carbonara sauce, and I couldn’t resist telling her it would taste much better if she just made it herself.

“Add a little extra Grana Padano on top of it,” I finish. “A good glass of wine on the side and you’re done.”

She hums. “I’m definitely going to try that tonight.”

Her flirtatious tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and I let my eyes glance over her face. She is pretty, with long dark-blonde hair, clear-blue eyes and a couple of freckles around her nose. She looks like a genuinely sweet girl, and I know that usually, she would definitely be someone who I would fall for.

But lately, I find myself less and less interested. In fact, I haven’t been on a date in months. At first, I thought It was because I just didn’t find anyone of interest, but now I know that my judgement is clouded by a certain dark-haired detective who occupies my mind most of the time.

That’s why I don’t have to think before I reply. “Good luck.”

I give her a final smile before I choose to walk away, leaving her behind.


	6. Power Outage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, a day too late. That means: one extra chapter later tonight!

The case concluded in a rather spectacular chase through an abandoned warehouse. Deciding to go separate ways, Sherlock ran off to collect the evidence we needed, and I ran after the forger. It only took me three minutes to catch him and am handing him over to Lestrade when suddenly the power shuts off, shrouding everything in darkness. Everyone immediately grabs their phones to put on their flashlights, but that’s not what comes to my mind. I shoot Greg a worried look, hoping that he will understand.

I’ve got to get to Sherlock, fast.

Luckily Greg does, nods, and takes over the suspect so I can take off. I run as fast as I can and try to get my phone simultaneously, so I have a bit of light. Within seconds, I swing open the office door and feel my heart sink.

There, in the far corner, with his knees to his chest and his head hidden, sits Sherlock.

I don’t hesitate and walk closer, kneel in front of him and place a tentative hand on his arm.

“It’s okay; you’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen,” I whisper soothingly, allowing him to slump against me. I don’t care if anyone comes in and sees us like this. I know he needs this. Needs me.

Because some demons just can’t be beaten.


	7. Cereal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, one week in and I’m having so much fun writing these :) Let me know what you guys think so far! 
> 
> Can’t wait to see what will happen in week two!

  
I sip my coffee and let my eyes take in John’s form left of me. He sits at the kitchen table with the newspaper in one hand and his spoon in the other, eating his cereal and reading at the same time. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth at the sight of him, so relax, so content. 

Ever since he moved in with me at 221b, we’ve had this Sunday-morning ritual. On weekdays, John has to hurry to get to the clinic, and I can’t be bothered with breakfast, but on Sundays, we share the newspaper over a cup of coffee and enjoy each other’s company in silence. 

Seeming to feel my gaze on him, John looks up from his newspaper and gives me a smile that makes my heart stutter. Our eyes lock for a moment, his look warm and… affectionate? My eyes flicker down to his mouth and back. 

“You’ve, uhm… you got some-“ stammer and gesture to the corner of my mouth. He mirrors me and tries to wipe the crumbs of cereal away, but misses. 

Encouraged by the moment, I reach out and brush them off. My touch is soft, almost feather-light. He sucks in a breath, and I allow myself to think he feels it too; the electricity that makes our touch burn. 


	8. Sceptical

  
“What do you want, Mycroft?”

“No need to snap, brother mine; just a social visit. Plus, mummy asked me to bring you these. She knows you love them.” I put the tin can on the coffee table for Sherlock to take. He simply huffs in response, but I can see the cookies have his interest. I wonder how long it will take before the temptation beats his stubbornness.

We’re both staring at each other for what seems like minutes, and I’m not surprised that it’s John who decides to break the silence. “Tea?”

“Please,” I answer politely. What happens next is surprising, to say the least. John places a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder to get a reaction, and when he does, my brother looks up and gives the good doctor a small smile.

I immediately realize there has been a shift in their dynamics.

I’ve always been sceptical when it comes to my little brother and relationships. Not because I think he’s doesn’t deserve one, but because I don’t want to see him getting hurt. I’ve been trying to protect him from it - told him he doesn’t need one, that he’s better off alone, that caring is not an advantage… but seeing him like this makes me believe I was wrong.

I just hope that this time, things will be better.


	9. Velvet

  
I can hear John walking down the stairs, but I’m so preoccupied with samples of cat saliva under my microscope that I don’t look up immediately. But when I do, I almost let my pipette drop. I manage to grab the edge of the table just in time to make sure my knees won’t buckle, but I can’t prevent myself from sucking in a breath. John is facing the mirror, adjusting his tie. But more important, he’s wearing a dark-green, velvet suit.

He looks absolutely stunning.

He turns around when he hears my gasp, gives a small smile and walks over to the kitchen. “I haven’t worn this suit in five years; I bought it for Mike’s wedding. I thought I could wear it to the dance, but I’m not sure,” he says and let his hands glide over the soft fabric of his jacket. “What do you think? Not too tight?”

My throat suddenly feels very dry, and I’m unable to look away. The suit hugs him in all the right places, and the off-white of his shirt accentuates his golden skin tone, making him look years younger.

“No, it fits you perfectly,” I tell him, my voice hoarse. I can see by the smirk on his face that he knows what kind of effect it has on me.

Bastard.


	10. Handle

  
After being stuck at the Yard to help Lestrade with his newest case, I’m starving, and even Sherlock looks hungry. “Come on; there’s a good Chinese just around the corner,” he proposes. Before I can answer, he’s already walking.

After two minutes, he stops at a Chinese restaurant and waits for me. Seeing him standing there with his hand on the door handle brings back a memory.

“Tell me how you know?”

Sherlock’s lips quirk into a smile for a second, clearly remembering as well. I know he likes to deduce in front of me; it gives him a moment to show off a bit.

“A traditional Chinese restaurant has a long door handle, like this one,” he starts and points at the brass door handle. “On average, Chinese people aren’t very tall. If they open the door, they take the bottom third of the handle. So if that part is more discoloured than the rest, you know the restaurant is good enough to attract Chinese as well.”

“Amazing.”

He looks at me, and I see his eyes light up at the praise and a slight blush form on his cheeks, but he tries to keep his cool. “Mere observation, John.” 

“Nope.” I open the door, place my other hand on his back and guide him inside. “It was absolutely brilliant.”


	11. Swimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I know I’m a little behind, but I’ll fix it tomorrow with two! :) 
> 
> In the mean time, enjoy John’s epiphany! 💕

  
When I enter the apartment, Sherlock lays on the couch, vast asleep. The case we’ve had was particularly difficult to crack and I know he hadn’t slept at all for the past two nights. Now that he has solved it, it wasn’t surprising that he had dozed off. 

I silently walk to the kitchen and put the kettle on. After minutes, I take my cup of tea with me back to the living room,, deciding to enjoy the quiet rather than to go upstairs. Without thinking, I put down my cup, take the blanket from the armrest and put it over Sherlock before sitting down in my own chair.

I allow myself a good look at the sleeping man in front of me. He looks years younger; his features relaxed, his hair slightly tousled, his mouth a tiny bit open. Warmth spread through my body, a feeling I became familiar with these last few weeks.

He makes me feel like that. He makes my heart stutter, my stomach flip and my head swim. But all in a good way. 

In the best way possible, even. 

And here, in the quiet of our apartment, I come to a life-changing conclusion. This isn’t just fancying someone, or having a crush on someone. No, it’s so much deeper than that. This is love. 

Bollocks. 


	12. Salt

“Cheers mate!”

I smile at Greg, take a big gulp and sigh, silently agreeing that going to a pub on a weekday was a good idea. We’ll probably regret it in the morning – we aren’t in our college years anymore - but I couldn’t resist when Greg called. Plus, I could use somebody to talk to as well.

If I can find the courage.

“So, tell me,” I start, trying to buy some time before he begins about Sherlock. “Who was it this time? Dimmock? Anderson?”

Greg lets out a frustrated groan and starts talking. Before I know, I’m listening to a lively story while enjoying a second and a third, beer.

When he’s done venting, Greg takes a large swig, puts the bottle down with a thud and eyes me for a long moment. “So, what’s going on with you and Sherlock?”

“What do you mean?”

“Playing dumb isn’t going to work, mate. Something shifted between you two. Even Anderson noticed it.” 

I sigh and suddenly feel the urge to tell him. “You’re right, it did.”

“Hold on,” Greg interrupts. Without saying anything, he walks to the bar, orders something and comes back with two shots with transparent liquid, lemon and salt. “This calls for the big guns.”

I nod, and before I begin to tell, I knock my glass back.


	13. Boss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, three chapters in one day! But then again, I had some catching up to do. Make sure you don't miss out on the previous two chapters (Swimming and Salt). <3

  
I sit in my office and lean back in my chair, my feet on the desk, and my eyes screwed shut. The aspirin I took an hour ago doesn’t seem to help with my headache, but at least my nausea had subsided. Nasty things, hangovers. But then again, I know damn well that you never go home after a beer or two when you go drinking with John Watson. Especially when he got things to tell you.

And boy, he had plenty to say yesterday.

Of course, it has been a long time coming, but hearing John open up about Sherlock that way, allowing his true feelings to show touched me deeply. Once he started talking, he simply couldn’t stop, and the way his mouth kept curling into a smile at the thought of Sherlock was incredibly endearing. If there was only a way to give them a push in the right direction…

And suddenly, an idea comes to mind.

I get up with gusto and stick my head outside my office. “Donovan!” I yell.

She looks up from her computer screen. “Yes?”

“Could you come in for a sec?”

She simply nods, gets up and enters my office. I wait for her to close the door before I speak.

“Are you in for some playing cupid?”

She grins. “Always, boss.”


	14. Ugly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, sweeties! <3

  
I know been keeping the bathroom occupied for nearly two hours, but I can’t seem to make myself move. I just stare at my reflection in the mirror, just like I’ve been doing for the past thirty minutes. By now, I can see every wrinkle, every pore and every blemish in my face. My curls aren’t tamed enough, my lips are patchy, and I can see the fatigue around my eyes.

Usually, I’m a pretty confidant man. Some people think I look alluring and exotic; with my high cheekbones, raven-black hair, and colour-shifting eyes. But going on a date with John – yes, I do like to think that this is a date – makes me incredibly insecure. I know it’s shallow of me, but I can’t help myself. I feel ugly.

“Sherlock, you ready?”

I sigh, knowing that I can’t hide in here forever. I give a firm nod, straighten my spine and check myself in the mirror one more time. It has to be enough.

When I open the door, John is standing in the hallway. He looks stunning in his dark-green velvet suit, but what really takes my breath away is the look on his face. The open, warm, affectionate look that makes my heart stutter, and I instantly know he doesn’t think I’m ugly.

He thinks I’m absolutely beautiful.


	15. Argument

“Are you sure you gave the right address?” I ask, a little frustrated.

We’ve been driving around for twenty minutes, unable to find the location where the Valentines’ fundraiser will be. Sherlock insisted he had told the driver the correct address, but I’m starting to get my doubts.

“Obviously, John,” Sherlock scoffs. “I always give the right address.”

I snort. “That’s surely not true.”

“What?” He turns away from the window and looks at me, and for a second, all I can think is how mesmerizing he is in the passing city lights. “I never send us to the wrong location?”

“Oh, but you did. Remember the time we had to call Lestrade because we were lost?”

“The suspect suddenly went somewhere else!”

“Him going home wasn’t suddenly, Sherlock.”

Sherlock huffed. “Fine, I gave one wrong address! But so did you!”

“Please! You mean last week?”

“Yes, John, yes, I am.”

“That wasn’t my… I didn’t…” I stammer, but I know he’s right. But when I open my mouth to tell him, the driver stops.

“Here we go, Dickens Inn on Marble Quay.”

I look at Sherlock questioningly; that doesn’t even sound like the address he gave the driver. Sherlock simply shrugs and tries to hide his smirk. I start to giggle, and before we know, we are laughing like boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late to the party, but come say hi on tumblr if you want!
> 
> https://randomwordsonpaper.tumblr.com/


	16. Trinket

  
“Thank you, John.”

He simply nods, takes a sip from his beer and takes a moment to overlook the crowd. It allows me to take a good look at him before my eyes fall on an old tie pin.

“Your dad’s?”

It takes him a moment to understand what I’m talking about. He smiles fondly, and I can’t place if it’s directed towards me, or if he smiles at the memory. “No, my uncle’s. He loved to collect old knickknacks on flea markets.” He takes his tie in hand and looks at the pin. “He gave it to me when I graduated. It’s probably worth nothing, but—”

“Doctor Watson! You look like a man who can dance!”

Sally Donovan appears next to us, invading John’s personal space. I glare at her, but she ignores me completely.

“Not really?” John stammers. “I mean, I followed some ballroom dancing classes, but that was a long, long time ago.”

“Oh, that’s perfect! My partner bailed, but I’m supposed to participate in the dance marathon the next hour. I'm sure you still can do the quickstep!” Donovan smiles and grabs John’s arm. “You don’t mind if I borrow him for a bit, right?”

I don’t get time to respond; before I know, she has turned around and walks away with John, leaving me behind, blinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tun tun tun tun....


	17. Delusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, thank you so much for all the comments! I'm gonna write a reply, but first: a new chapter! 💕

  
I sit at the bar with a tumbler of whiskey in my hand. I stare at the glass, attempting to keep my mind calm long enough until I can leave. I try not to look at Donovan and John on the dancefloor, but I can’t help myself. Every couple of seconds, my eyes linger on the two figures dancing. It doesn’t take a genius to see that John is enjoying himself, not only the dancing but her company as well. He’s having fun, enjoys the attention Donovan gives him, telling her things that make her giggle. I notice they’re dancing closer to each other than they previously did.

It makes me sick to my stomach to see them like this.

What upsets me even more is that I have been an absolute idiot. How could I think that sweet, caring, perfect John, in his beautiful velvet suit, with a smile to die for, could ever fancy me? How could I allow myself to fall for that delusion, to believe in something that’s not there? 

Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I take one last gulp and glance over to John one more time. He won’t even notice I’m gone. But before I can take off, someone grabs my arm. 

“Come with me,” Lestrade says and pulls me away from the bar.


	18. Property

“Here.”

The look of surprise I get when I offer him a cigarette would be laughable if the man wasn’t about to lose it. He quietly takes one out of the package, lights it, and he lets out a sigh. I do the same and take a good look; it’s not often that I see Sherlock like this, so lost, so vulnerable. He’s clearly doesn’t know what to do or how to react, but I’m about to give him some perspective.

“Listen,” I start. “I know what’s going on, and I hate to break it to you, but I think you’re jealous. I saw you looking at them; you think he should be with you instead of giving Donovan his attention.”

Sherlock let out a puff of smoke. “You make it sound like he belongs to me.”

“That’s because he does. At least, if you want him to be.”

It takes Sherlock some time to wrap his mind around what I just said. “How would you know?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“Because he told me, Sherlock.”

“What?”

“You need to see things from a different angle. Donovan isn’t trying to steal him away from you; she’s trying to help. We all are. Go back inside; I’m sure everything will be fine. You just need to be a little braver.”


	19. Greece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, we’re nearing the moment suprême! 💕

  
“...And that’s why Greece is my favourite country to go on holiday!” 

I look at Donovan and blink, trying to remember what was telling me. She makes a quick spin in time with the music and steps back in my arms with a knowing smile on her face. “You haven’t heard a word I said.” 

“Sorry, not really,” I apologise and can feel myself blush.

“It’s fine; I know you’re looking for Sherlock. He’s outside, talking to Greg.” 

“How do you know?”

Donovan doesn’t answer. Instead, she looks at me with a smirk, her eyes glistening with mischief. Suddenly, I know what’s going on. 

_Oh, they’re good._

The music switches to a slow waltz, and Donovan steps closer and bends a little forward. I know how this must look to someone who’s watching us dance: like we’re involved. I feel a pang of guilt when I realise that Sherlock must have seen that as well. 

“Don’t worry, Lestrade got it covered,” Donovan tells me, her voice soft next to my ear. “Turn us around, and you’ll see what I mean.” 

We slowly turn on the beat of the music, and I feel my heartbeat quicken. When I look over Donovan’s shoulder, I see Sherlock standing there. The look he gives me is so bright and intense that it leaves me breathless. 

  
  
  
  
  



	20. Heels

  
I can see John mouth “I need to go” to Donovan, who looks past him and winks at me. Clearly, she had been in on this as well.

The look John gives me when he approaches blows me away completely. He looks at me like I’m the most beautiful person in the room, and he’s the luckiest man here. It makes my heart flutter against my chest.

God, I'm head-over-heels in love with that man. 

“Clever of them,” he starts with a cheeky grin. “Separating us, giving us that little push we needed. Question is, did it work?” 

“You tell me,” I counter.

“I think so, yeah.” 

“If that’s true, we need to get out of here.” 

“Why?” He asks in a low, teasing tone that makes me shiver. 

“I don’t want the Met to witness our first kiss.” 

“Oh,” is all answers, and the flash of anticipation gives me enough courage to push this a little further. I bend towards him, my lips nearly brushing his ear. 

“Plus, I think we need to find somewhere a little more private if we want to do what I’ve planned after that. If you are amenable, that is.” 

“God, yes.” 

“Lead the way then, doctor.” 

Even before I finish my sentence, he takes my hand and pulls me along, not wasting another beat.   
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know what comes after...💕


	21. Sigh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't wait to post this! <3

  
John guides me through the crowd, into the hallway and through the front door of the building. He clearly knows where he wants to go, like a soldier on a mission.

And I can only follow my soldier.

He leads me around the building into the garden, out of sight. After walking a few yards into the garden, John stops, turns around and looks at me with big, blue eyes, and I know that this is it.

When I feel his lips against mine, I can’t withhold the sigh that escapes me. It’s a sigh of relief, of letting go of that long build-up tension, of finally feeling complete. I always expected our first kiss to be frantic and full of pent-up energy, but it isn’t anything like that. It’s not a kiss that’s formed through want, but through love.

At first, It’s nothing more than a brush of lips, but soon I can feel a warm hand on the small of my back and the other in the nape of my neck. He opens his mouth just a little and deepens the kiss, and it’s the most delicate feeling in the world.

Way too soon, he breaks off the kiss.

“Let’s get home,” John whispers. I feel his words against my lips and know that our night has just begun.


	22. Texture

  
When we enter Sherlock’s bedroom, the mood shifts. The cab ride was filled with some excellent snogging and playful touches, but now it grows into something more delicate, more vulnerable. This won’t be just sex; it’ll be the start of something new. I realise we only get to do this once, and I’m determined to make it rememberable.

I cup his cheek and kiss him tenderly. I can feel him tremble against my lips and know he’s nervous. I’d be lying if I told him I wasn’t. For some reason, I feel the urge to check we’re still okay, backing away a little. He gives a slight nod and closes the small gap between us once again.

I push his suit jacket from his shoulders and let my hands come up to his shirt buttons, slipping them through their holes agonizingly slow. I leave his mouth to kiss every bit of pale skin that’s revealed. The texture of it against my hands and lips is so soft that a moan escapes me.

Finally, I fall on my knees and linger at the waistband of his trousers. I allow myself to glance up, so I’m able to memorize him like this, panting and wholly undone already. Then, I let my hands roam over one of the most intimate places of his body.  
  
  



	23. Verbal

I’d always known that John would be a fantastic lover, but in reality, it’s so much better. Every touch, every lick, and every kiss he gives me is with so much care that he makes me feel things I’ve never experienced before. On the contrary to what Mycroft believes, I do have some comparable data, so I know that this is something else entirely.

I can only conclude it’s because of the words that are too fragile to say right now.

“John, please,” I gasp when his fingers leave me. He gives me a tentative smile before he reaches for the tube on the bed and lubes himself up. He places himself above me with precision. A moan escapes my lips when I feel him against me.

I look into his eyes, and I know what he’s trying to tell me. Maybe not with words, not yet, and he doesn’t have to. The look in his eyes tells me that at this moment, we both can feel them.

_I love you._

Carefully, he starts to push. Inch by inch, I feel him enter me. His eyes roam across my face in search of any sign of discomfort, but all I can feel is pleasure ripping through my body.

I realise that right here, in his arms, is where I truly belong.


	24. Forget

  
Doctors believe it’s because of the hormone Prolactin that most men fall asleep after sex, but it’s the middle of the night, and I’m still wide awake. You, on the other hand, seem to confirm that theory. You fell asleep hours ago with a hint of a smile on your face and your hand in mine.

It’s not that I can’t sleep; I simply don’t want to. All I want to do is enjoy the calmness inside my mind. I almost forgot what it was like not to think a hundred miles per hour, not focus on all the little details, not to deduce every fact there is. But now, here in the middle of the night, there’s nothing but blissful tranquillity. 

I know it’s you who brought that to me.

Suddenly, everything gets overwhelming, and I can feel the prickling of tears in my eyes. You’ve brought me so many things already, as my doctor, as my partner, as my friend… I realise it is too much to ask to bring me something else as well. 

So I try to enjoy the silence for now because once you’re awake, it will be gone. I shift a little closer and hold your hand against my chest. I allow myself to have this moment, even when I know what tomorrow will bring.  
  
  



	25. Mystic

It’s still early, not even seven, but some military habits never die. I don’t mind; it gives me time to cherish this moment. I turn on my side to look at your sleeping form. The street lantern and the beginnings of the morning are shining through the curtains, illuminating your features. They give you a mystical look, with your dark hair against the white sheets and your pale skin that almost looks translucent in this light. 

I’m relieved to see you like this because I know you only fell asleep a few hours ago. I could feel you shift and turn, indicating that you were still awake in the middle of the night. 

I can guess why. 

I reach up with my hand to brush a curl away from your forehead and sigh. I know you were questioning my feelings for you, that you started to think this all is too good to be true. That even after last night, you still believe that I don’t want this with you. But you’re mistaken; there’s nothing I’d love more. 

So as I’m lying next to you, I make a promise. I’m going to make sure you know that I’m in this for as long as you want me to. I just need to be convincing. 

And I might know how to be.


	26. Ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, Big Brother is watching you!
> 
> Seriously tho... only two more to go and then our journey ends! :(

  
Sherlock is still asleep when I decide to get up for some coffee. I quietly exit the bed and throw on the first shirt I can find before I walk to the kitchen. I take out two mugs and put the coffee machine on when I hear a knock at the door. To be honest, I’m not even surprised.

The walls of 221B have ears, after all. 

Without a greeting, I walk back to the kitchen. “Coffee?” 

He ignores the question, his eyes going from the two mugs on the counter back to me. “That’s not your shirt.” 

I look down at the shirt I’m wearing. I hadn’t even noticed. “No, I guess it isn’t.” I hand him one of the mugs. “Are you here for the ‘don’t-hurt-my-brother-or-I’ll-hurt-you’ speech?” 

“Would that be necessary?”

I simply shrug and take a sip. He does the same; his eyes still on me. 

“I don’t think I have to,” he eventually says. “But know that, although my brother seems tough, he can be very insecure from time to time.” 

“I’m aware.” 

Mycroft takes another sip and puts his mug on the kitchen table. “Then I’m only here to congratulate you on the recent developments.” He turns around to leave. 

Before he does, he speaks again. “I’m happy, John. Not only for him, for you both.”


	27. Fashion

  
When I get up, John isn’t there. I try to ignore the unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach; he’s probably just out for some grocery shopping, but the feeling creeps up on me nonetheless.

I put on a simple pullover and black jeans, not feeling like wearing my usual fashion today. Those shirts and suits usually are my armour, but today, I feel unarmed.

I enter the kitchen to confirm John has indeed left the apartment. My eyes linger on two used mugs and snort; of course, Mycroft couldn’t wait to put his nose in my business. There’s freshly-made coffee with a mug next to the machine as well, but I ignore it.

I walk to the sofa and let myself fall, determined not to get off of it anytime soon. I need to re-evaluate yesterday’s events and figure out what to do with this situation before John gets home. Closing my eyes, I let myself sink into my thoughts.

I don’t hear John entering a few hours later. Only when I smell his aftershave as he leans over me, I notice he’s back.

“I know you need some time, but I’d like to have dinner together,” he whispers and places a kiss on the top of my head.

And just like that, I can start from the beginning.   
  
  



	28. List - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on, 30 chapters instead of 28? You know February only has 28 days, right?! 
> 
> I do know that, BUT! I decided to give these two idiots the ending they deserve, and I simply can't do that in 221 words. I also didn't want to abandon the 221 words concept, so that means there will be 2 chapters today (I'll upload part 2 in a couple of hours)! 
> 
> And on top of that, there will be an epilogue tomorrow! YAY!

  
"Coming?"

I'm very reluctant to get up since I want to avoid a conversation about our relationship's nature, but my transport is betraying me once again. The smell of something delicious has filled the apartment, making my stomach growl and my mouth water.

With a sigh, I heave myself from the sofa. When I look at John, he grins victoriously. My first instinct is to snap at him, but that would probably be considered as 'a bit not good'. So instead, I just shoot him a glare. I walk towards the kitchen, but halfway I stop in my tracks.

The table is completely set, including lots of candles and glasses filled with red wine.

John places his hand on the small of my back. "You are an idiot. How could you ever think that after last night, I'd want to go back to the way things were?"

"I… I didn't-"

"You did," he interrupts, slightly amused. "Come on, we may have mixed up the order of our' list of firsts' a bit, but I'd love to have a first date with you." He bends closer and presses a kiss against my cheek. "Plus, I have some other things on that list I want to check off tonight."

And just like that, he's able to brighten my mood and leave me blushing.


	29. List - Part 2

  
I lean back and watch with satisfaction how Sherlock eats the last of his desert. The evening has been incredible; delicious food paired with some excellent wine complementing the courses perfectly, the atmosphere between us relaxed, maybe flirty even.

With dinner coming to an end, I know I have to settle things once and for all. I get up, take out a small box from one of the drawers and kneel in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

He does, his eyes falling on the silver tie pin I wore yesterday.

“As far as first gifts go, I know it isn’t much. But I hope you’ll accept it as a token of my feelings for you.” I try to ignore the hammering in my chest and suck in a breath. “I love you, and I’m going to do what I can to make sure you don’t have to question it ever again.”

Sherlock doesn’t respond. He blinks and attempts to speak, but nothing comes out.

After seconds, I can’t take it anymore. “You don’t have to—”

“I love you too, John.”

Before I can register them, he seals his words with a passionate kiss. “I do hope this token is only temporary,” he whispers against my lips.

I laugh, suddenly feeling giddy with the prospect of what we can become. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the epilogue tomorrow!


	30. Obviously - Epilogue

  
It's a Monday afternoon in October, a typical Monday. It has been drizzling all day, flu season has started, and when I leave work, there seems to be a delay on the metro line I usually take, so I'm obligated to take a detour. But all of that doesn't matter. A little over seven months ago, I would be in a foul mood after a day like this.

Nowadays, I'm just happy to get home, knowing that someone's waiting for me. 

Sherlock is standing near the window overlooking Baker Street when I enter the apartment. I greet him, but he doesn't acknowledge me. I take off my coat, settle in my chair, and take a good look at him. Something's going on, that much I can tell, but he doesn't answer me when I ask what's wrong. I look around, searching for a clue, when my eye catches something on the table - a small box. In it, I find a simple silver ring.

An engagement ring.

I'm up on my feet and at his side so fast that he barely has the time to register it. I hurl him around, take him in my arms and kiss him. "Obviously," I whisper, suddenly overcome with emotion.

"Technically, I didn't ask anything," he smiles against my lips.

"You don't have to, you berk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... It's a wrap! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and supporting - it has been an absolute blast to write this! <3


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